


In Gethsemane Eternal

by CalamityCain



Category: Jesus Christ Superstar - All Media Types
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Frenemies, M/M, Masochism, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:22:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23683828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalamityCain/pseuds/CalamityCain
Summary: On the night before goes to his doom, Jesus lies with the betrayer who is also his most faithful lover.
Relationships: Jesus Christ/Judas Iscariot
Comments: 40
Kudos: 35





	In Gethsemane Eternal

He was restless tonight, filled with predicaments of doom. John’s doe-eyed sweetness could not soothe him now; neither could Mary’s eminently practical ways. Only one could give him what he needed. One alone could mock and challenge him in front of a crowd, and without being asked, give him what he needed in the dark.

Hot hands clasped his waist and hips, fingers pressing deep enough to bruise. Hungry and searing, the touch of the desert on uncovered skin. He let his head fall back and allowed his shadow lover to strip him bare. He wanted to be laid bare, as naked as the day he was brought to life and a curse laid upon his head.

Let them hang him on their tree; let them nail him to his doom. But let doom come in the day. Tonight, he wanted his sleep troubled by prophesies no more.

His lips parted, cracking, pleading. “Say something.” Judas was always so silent even as his body moved lean and whip-tight above. “Say you love me…pretend you love me.”

“Pretend?” Judas’ voice hissed in his ear. “Have I ever given you reason to doubt me?”

“Kiss me, then.” His lover – his disciple – acquiesced. The student became the teacher, the giver. At the same time those lips claimed his, practiced fingers readied him with scented oils. The very same Mary rubbed into his forehead and neck to soothe his aches. Judas took his time, stroking and stretching, making him groan with need. Perfume filled the air. Frankincense and myrrh.

“Don’t torment me any more, Judas Iscariot.” _I hunger; feed me. Fill me._

Judas slid behind him and pushed him to his side. With his back pressed his lover’s chest, their quickening breaths warming each other’s necks, Judas slid in, further and further. He did not stop until they were interlocked as perfectly as if they had been born entangled – limbs intertwined, as close as two human beings could get. He drew a long, shuddering breath so he would not pass out from bliss. Tilted his face to reach for Judas’ lips. The lips he could not, could never, have enough of.

Their mouths fed on each other and they moved as one. Judas moved in him like a slow-burning wave of sweetness mingled with pain when the man’s teeth sank into his shoulder. He cried out to an uncaring heaven. He cried with love, and his cries were made of melodic moans. A song of his weakness and his need. The song of a man who has been bent too long by the weight of divinity.

“They are outside the gates now, calling you a god,” Judas murmured. “Little do they know, you wish only to be fucked as a man.”

“Yes,” he panted. “Hold nothing back. Take me, before you take my life.”

“Already you condemn me as we make love. Do you know what you ask?”

“I know our destinies, as do you. You are my ruin. So ruin me before you go.”

The hand that cradled his face tightened until he felt the bruising of his bones. “As you wish.”

If Judas were to spill poison on his lips, he would swallow it with the kiss. He was tired; he was young in body but old in spirit. Perhaps his followers were meant to go on without him. He was only a carpenter’s son with simple needs. The very needs that were increasingly denied him even as he rose in rank.

Tonight, he wanted love – and roughness. And Judas alone could be trusted to give him both.

Demanding fingers gripped his hair, pushed his face into the sheets, encircled his neck. He closed his eyes at the pleasant suffocation. His gaping mouth spilled soft obscene whines as he was pinned down and penetrated as if he was a thing to be used and discarded. Except he knew that when it was over, he would not be abandoned. Judas’ arms would encircle him and their familiar weight would lull him to sleep. What came after that did not matter.

After they were both sated, he found his face was wet with tears. He cried from some unknown sorrow and the remnants of a burden escaping his body so he could be at peace. Judas held him and let him weep into his lover’s chest. Against that same chest he fell into a slumber as deep and peaceful as a child’s. If he dreamt at all, he did not recall what of.

He slept and slept far past his customary waking hour. When the sun finally crept across his face, he rose and blinked. Knowing the place beside him would be empty and cold, he reached for it nonetheless.

Then he heard his name – uttered in a voice that knew no love or mercy.

“Jesus of Nazareth.”

By raising his head in acknowledgment, he damned himself. The soldiers of Tiberius barely allowed him a shred of clothing before dragging him from the bed where he had lain and taken the love of his betrayer. The sheets still smelt of both their scents, mingled faintly with traces of myrrh.

He carried the poison on his tongue and in his heart. He tasted it over the litany of senseless accusations recited by the Roman governor. And when he went to face his final judgment, he no longer held in his mind’s eye the cruel God he had helped build such fervour around, but the cruel yet loving disciple whom he loved as a challenger, and a friend, and the one who had held him in his moments of greatest weakness. His body lay in the arms of his adversaries. But his soul lay in a little house in the garden of Gethsemane, in the arms of an adversary who was also his greatest love.

The prophesies did not extend further than the moment of his own end. And so he would be spared the vision of Judas hanging from a tree, driven mad by a betrayer’s guilt. Heaven had been promised him; golden gates would open wide to welcome eagerly his martyr’s sacrifice. But he wanted no part of a heaven that did not make room for the rebel, for the passionate foe and friend, who had challenged his every pronouncement the way he would challenge the Lord Himself.

“You are no Father of mine,” was all he would say when his maker appeared before him as he drew his last breaths. “I am the son of a woodworker and the lover of Judas Iscariot. And that is all I ever was.

“Let me renounce Heaven if I must. Let me find Paradise among those who truly loved me. Until I find them once more, let me walk in Gethsemane eternal.”

And with those words, he died.

**Author's Note:**

> ~  
> someone advise me how to buy, stream or steal a digital copy of the 2012 Arena version of JCS please I am obsessed


End file.
